


When You Go Down

by thejizzler



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Identity Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13902219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejizzler/pseuds/thejizzler
Summary: Oswald Cobblepot has no use for Edward Nygma. The Riddler is another story.





	When You Go Down

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for some light spoilers from promo material for the coming episodes!
> 
> This is almost certainly not what is happening in [this photo](https://pmctvline2.files.wordpress.com/2018/03/gotham-4x14-nygma-oswald.jpg), but it's where my mind went and I just needed to get it down.

It’s The Riddler Oswald needs.

Ed, stupid, pathetic, useless _Ed_ , has nothing to offer. No way of breaking him out, and certainly no desire to.

The Riddler likely has no desire either, but he possesses the means to do it, if nothing else, and Oswald can reason with that. Yes, brilliance he can negotiate with.

The split between his selves is clear as if literal across Ed’s face, in the dishevelment of his hair and the stains on his suit. He can see that fearsome beast lurking in the blinks between his eyes, _Riddler_ , the one who’d put a bullet in Oswald’s gut and left him to drown, who damn near did it again without a second thought, who’d once promised to torture him over the course of days, slow and painful, as his gun caressed Oswald’s throat.

He’s in there, Oswald knows, and he wants out. Perhaps a little provocation is all the push he needs.

Oswald attacks, hands flying, all his strength colliding with Ed’s chest, then pulling back and hitting harder.

“What are you doing?” Ed asks, hands flying up as if to shield himself.

He sounds afraid, small and soft as he’d been long ago, the first time Oswald had ever seen his face, rambling on about riddles and penguins and eggs, and the weakness makes Oswald see red.

He hits again, harder, with all his might, all the rage of Arkham’s abuses spilling out of him tenfold, panting with the effort of it.

“Stop,” Ed says, voice deep, the command a threat.

Chest surging at the minute progress made, Oswald keeps up the ambush, fists dropping to Ed’s soft stomach now, and then he feels it -

Trembling hands at his collar, tentative but strong. A flickering fire in Ed’s irises. There, then gone, then back again, stronger, lasting longer, more savage every time.

_There you are_ , Oswald thinks, fists making impact again. Ed’s grip tightens, inching ever closer to his neck.

Oswald brings his hands back to his chest, a final violent shove so hard it hurts his palms, and Ed’s hands are around his throat now, tight, the scratchy fabric of Oswald’s Arkham collar felt less as the constriction intensifies.

Oswald’s hands go loose, hovering at his shoulders. He lets his face soften, eyes fixed on eyes still partly Ed’s.

“Come on,” Oswald whispers, voice tight.

Ed’s hands remain still, the fear back. Moronic though he is, he's caught on to Oswald’s game.

“Oswald, please,” Ed says.

“Come on,” Oswald repeats.

Ed’s fingers tauten. There are tears in his eyes.

“You’ve got this,” Oswald chokes. Then, reverent, his own eyes shining:

“ _Riddler_.”

Ed’s mouth drops.

His eyes flutter closed.

The grip at Oswald’s neck tightens.

When Ed’s eyes snap back open, they belong to Ed no more.

“Hello, Oswald,” he purrs, a mocking and loving rasp. “Long time no see. Bold of you, to drag me out while my hands are around your throat. Can’t say I’m not grateful, though.”

“Then show me,” Oswald gasps, straining beneath the squeeze at his neck.

Riddler’s fingers press harder, and Oswald can’t get out the intended second half of the sentence: _get me out of here, please, I’ll make it worth your while._

When Riddler leans in for a bruising kiss, biting hard at Oswald’s lip and releasing the hold at his neck, Oswald gasps into his mouth and bites right back.

“Let’s get out of here,” Oswald says at last.

Riddler pulls back and looks down at him, smirk softly bloodied.

“Not until I’m done with you,” he growls, pushing Oswald back into the wall behind him.

It’s as much a promise as it is a threat, and somehow, even in his stripes, back pressed hard against a grimy Arkham wall, Oswald already feels blissfully free.


End file.
